


All of Me

by prismdreams



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alexandra Daddario - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Brave, Depression, Drama, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Secrets, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt, Inspired by a Movie, James Mcavoy - Freeform, Love, Marvel Comics - Freeform, Mutant Hate, Mutant Powers, Mutant Rights, Mutants, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Plural, Pain, Post-Movie(s), Ratings: R, Relationship(s), Romance, Romantic Friendship, Secrets, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Song fic, Strength, Suffering, Work In Progress, xmen vs the world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 00:01:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prismdreams/pseuds/prismdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of reaching for reason, Charles Xavier didn't have any left. To know he was accountable for all he lost was something he couldn't accept. He found solace in fading to the background, his personal battle with himself made life even harder. He didn't think anyone genuinely cared for humanity anymore. He wasn't praying for distractions, didn't mean there weren't any.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Set in between X-Men: First Class and before X-Men: Days of Future Past.

Cambridge, London, England, 1970

Charles struggled to stand up near his desk. His stomach felt nauseous and he was growing anxious without the antidote serum he used to suppress the X-gene in his system so he could walk again. He had become an addict to numbing the pain. It didn't matter how much his correct dosage was or should be he would inject several vials even if it killed him. _Anything was better than living with this madness_ he would say often. For this torturous life he was born with; he didn't always think of it that way.

In a world where life had evolved since Homo sapiens, mutants had become a reality; with history dating back to BC, Charles Xavier believed it was a possible for humankind to accept, adapt and co-exist with mutants if they are shown love, kindness, compassion, forgiveness, even for centuries of human eradications. Mutants would find peace in a world where there is little hope of a better tomorrow. He thought he could harness happiness for his kind because he didn't look at the school as just a safe haven, it was so much more.

Charles poured another glass of scotch on top of the somber ice cubes and bit down on his tongue before lifting the glass to his lips. He took a drink, wincing back at the taste, stomaching the sting for all its worth.

He thought back to his students. The very people born the way he was, his personal battles with depression pushed back for the sense of trying to understand another mutant onto the next. Charles never gave up hope. He wanted something more for his kind; Erik's words were reverberating in harsh vibrations like a boomerang of mind clutter. Deep down he knew his old friend was wrong. And yet it was so difficult to find the will to care anymore; especially when he had always lived in a world where he thought better of human beings.

For a long time he believed mankind was supposed to mirror compassion, love and loyalty in other human beings, even for ones born different than the next, not fear them.

"Charles, hello...?" A voice spoke from the doorway.

Charles obliviously gave a nod while dragging his body passed his personal housekeeper to the wash room to splash cold water over his face. His caretaker had to make sure he did even the most essential regiments to start his day. He lingered over his sink a few moments before reaching for the crisp, soft towel that lay neatly in the cabinet. Taking his time was an aberrant trait he wouldn't soon abandon.

This wasn't right; days shouldn't be longer than most. His days used to have meaning and purpose. He was motivated to do more with his life. He had the will to see the better in human nature. Not succumb to its cynical ways and become its lowly follower. He couldn't bear accept Erik's destructive way of thinking. Charles knew that much, and yet, during this moment, he began pondering, even considering the possibility his friend may have had a reason to utter such narcissistic but poignant words.

Perhaps there was an iota of truth to his friend's words: _We already are better. Peace was never an option._  
  
"I don't want to live in Erik's way of thinking. Look what happened to him. It's been nothing but pain and darkness...more than I can handle." Charles said to himself. He was getting used to speaking to himself when no one was there. Nobody judged him.

And this is what the world has turned into. Judgments. Blind hatred. Suffering. An undecided future for his species. Hiding was a way of living to a mutant. Xavier believed even in his state of mind right now that somehow life works in mysterious ways. But now, that word "mysterious" could be anything of detriment. Charles feared a prosperous future was an ongoing battle for his kind and he felt personally responsible for it. To take on the weight of everyone's suffering, their burdens, it was all too much for him. He thought he could find it within himself to persevere.

He lost everything. He knew he lost himself the more he stopped believing in life, in hope.

Charles finally emerged from the washroom, not entirely certain he did his entire essential itinerary for the day, he pushed that aside when he touched the chair in front of his desk. He came to sit down, almost in a state of utter exhaustion, collecting his bearings as he exhaled a tired breath.

He looked at his desk and noticed he had left his journal underneath newspaper articles and pulled the binder from under the shambles.

He hesitated before opening the book, he knew what was inside, going back to those memories would make it far worse, part of him didn't care and the other part felt like revisiting the personal demons again. The ones he refused to fix since no amount of doctor could help what he has; Charles still leafed through the binder to find the end of the last passage.

He took a deep breath before grabbing a pen before he could turn back. Writing what was wrong never really helped, it was a short temporary fix, like drinking, it numbed the pain until he sobered up and realized how worthless it was to confess secrets to a leather binder. What good did it really do him?

Nevertheless he found his hand moving to the top of the page to begin the familiar trajectory of pseudo psychological treatment.

_December 1, 1970_

_I've failed everyone in more ways than one. The longer I think about what has happened to our kind, our existence, I feel I'm certain it's driving me to the worst of all my personal darkness can carry me. Was Erik right? That I really don't know. Erik was wrong about a lot. His path was never meant to be mine, and in the back of my mind I feel like it has gravely started to be. I'm pretending to everyone that it's not. My denial is stronger than my empathy. To a time when I was revered for caring about humanity. One human had showed me more, the only woman I personally felt strong with. Moira's memory had to be wiped clean so that meant she couldn't remember who we were, who I was, what we can do, though I feel like I regret that decision now every day. I needed her with me, but I knew I would have put her life in danger had she stayed. Dearest Moira. I have loved her and I continue to love her even as a man who has lost his way. No one, no human has shown me the common decency as Moira MacTaggert and no one ever will. I've abandoned my mutants, my brothers and sisters, my family. All because of fear, of Erik's words echoing their ugliness into my mind. Forcing its way like a virus wanting to spread. He knew how strong those words were and I never thought anything of it, because I was always in control. I believed I could push them out. I thought my fear was a dragon I was meant to kill. Now I don't know why life created someone like me. What for? I already despise who I am and what I am enough._

 Charles abruptly stopped and closed the book on those final words. This is all he could handle. If he wrote anything, the writing stopped until he was too afraid to go on. And that is where it all connects to. His fear. His self loathing. His punishment for something he couldn't control.

"Mr. Xavier, may I?"

Charles didn't shake because he was startled; he shook because a human was speaking with him. He had gone so mad he was afraid of voices in real life now.

"What is it?" He voice came out in a barely audible scratchy tone.

He sipped his drink and turned to a younger caretaker, apprehensively standing in the doorway.

"Dr. McCoy has a letter delivered to you. Would you like me to...?" She trailed off as Charles forced himself to stand up and walk to her.

He touched the envelope and looked at his caretaker for a moment. She calmly nodded, knowing it was time to return to daily chores, plus she wanted to give him more time alone with the letter.

Charles sighed heavily. He didn't know what to expect when it came to Hank McCoy, his geneticist partner and good friend. But lately, he questioned Hank's patience; his mutant friend would appear less and less to his home, claiming he was called away for other scientific purposes. Hank invented a serum that made it possible to extract the X-Gene in mutations. Hank would utilize the injection whenever his insecurities got the better of him. But Charles, he would use it to the point of becoming an etherized patient. And the worst part was he knew exactly what he was doing no matter how much damage it did to his body. He became co-dependent on it; more compared to someone taking one too many sleeping pills in treating apnea.

Charles tossed the envelop onto the desk, wary of opening it, not because he was worried about what Hank might have written but because he already knew what was in there.

His thoughts got the better of him as he tore the letter with the opener, waiting to read what was expected.

_Professor Xavier,_

_Yes, I will still call you my friend because that is who you are to me. You have done so much for me and for every mutant we know. I want you to know this so it may help you carry on with positivity from here on. I humbly wish you well and see to it that you don't become the worst version of yourself for your own sake. You are my friend and nothing will change that, but I can't find it in my strength to come by your home any longer. I am sorry, my sincerest apologizes are given. I don't know of the next time I'll return to you, but I believe with Ruth keeping you company in that expansive house, I am assured you will not be alone. Take care Charles._

_Your Friend,_  
_Hank McCoy_

"Bloody thought so." He grumbled as he threw the letter on the ground, forgotten.

What was he going to do without Hank? For a long time he had thought Hank was someone that couldn't let him down, not even after all he personally lost.

Now he didn't know where to turn, who to confide in. He had his drinking, binge-happy attitude, long sleep-filled nights that lasted well into the afternoon.

"Charles..." a familiar voice called out, he knew Ruth's voice would be louder than his own thoughts."Dinner is ready in half passed 8 tonight."

Charles hesitated before gulping down his potential reaction to Hank's letter. He hated feeling this way. Ruth would be forcing him downstairs if he didn't comply, he nodded in spite of himself; remembering the last time he put up a fight.

"Very well."

Ruth, a rotund middle-aged woman herself, wisps of grey streaks sprayed in her brunette hair that was tightly bound with a clip. It was the same look she had whenever she worked. Charles was used to her stern and sturdy demeanor. She had devoted more time and energy to go above and beyond for Charles than any of his friends could give. She was a sort of surrogate mother, a second kin to his growing up through his early mutant years.

"Get proper washed and dressed. I don't want to come by this room again seeing you in dirty rags. I expect better." Ruth said, her take no prisoners attitude boomed louder than Charles expected.

"Yes." He said, forcing his body to completely compose before nodding to her. "Of course."

"Go to it." Ruth ordered and left without another word.

Charles stripped off his clothes, taking his pace as slow as he could, he really didn't want to do anything right now.

To be the one who abandoned everyone you promised to protect is something he wasn't ready to face. But those thoughts came back before he could force them out. Being this scraggly waste of a human was the best he could do under the circumstances. He can't help but think how many mutants he failed. Taking care of himself was the least of his worries.

After showering, more or less and eventually stepping out of the warm water, he came to his bedroom to see formal clothes already laid out. Ruth had taken it upon herself to force him to continue on with his life, her will was too strong and his was non-existent.

Charles stumped downstairs, robe discarded, dressed more formally than he would have wanted. He stopped mid-step when he saw Ruth place dinner on the table.

He almost said something but she held her hand up before he could get a word out. She knew his rituals too well.

"Sit down." she ordered.

He sat at his usual seat at the head of the table in silence as she finished bringing the last of the full course meal.

"You skipped lunch, supper is extended for tonight. No refusals Charles." Ruth commented briskly, filling his glass with the ice cold pitcher. "Sit up straighter."

His meal was silent for the most part, that was until Ruth took it upon herself to divulge something unexpectedly personal.

"After everything I've finally decided to invite my granddaughter for an extra hand." She said, eying Charles before continuing. "She will be to the home at half passed 10 tonight. She is to assist around the house to the items and places I cannot be. If you plan on falling asleep in the study once more, greet her with the same respect you do me."

He focused his attention on his plate, absentmindedly paying attention to what his caretaker said. Another person will join the apathetic mood in this house. Charles wasn't sure if he felt less lonely or that another person, seemingly just like Ruth, will be watching his every move. A slight panic sprung up in the pit of his stomach. He swallow carefully before calming down.

"What is her name? The girl?" Charles asked, with a soft hint of gentle curiosity.

"Oi, you can't charm this one I'm afraid. She's a baby, barely 21. Her name is Aura, it suits her." Ruth said proudly as she took Charles' and her own plate to clean up.

Charles was left alone for a few moments with his thoughts. Perhaps he was only being paranoid at the notion of having another person, more to the truth, his peer to come live with her Nan and sharing the house, he didn't know what to think. The last he had been around people his own age he founded the school for mutants. He had wished she was the silent type, not so much like Ruth.

"Wipe those thoughts away Charles. She'll be close to me the majority of the time. Don't get cheeky now." Ruth spoke from the kitchen over the clinking of the dishes; she was ever the moment killer.

Charles stood from the table, trying not to roll his eyes in her faux concern but failed. There was nothing his caretaker needed to worry about. Even though Ruth had qualities where she was a super woman, he sincerely doubted he'd be around somebody like him. No more mutants. He had failed all of them. It was over. Moira, the life he had tried to dream into a reality. Peace of mind, hope. Tarnished worries were a far off fantasy.

This was what life was really like. Charles embraced it for all it had to be. This girl, whoever she is, was just another person. She couldn't possibly understand what it means to be born different.


	2. Chapter 2

Aura paid the driver what she owed and pulled her sparse belongings out of the trunk holding them tightly. She took a deep breath before glancing from the bottom garden to the top of the roof where she was temporarily staying. Her Nan said the house was vast but as Aura stared on she didn't realize just how enormous her new home would be. Working to middle class was an atmosphere she'd grown used to.

She mentioned the man she was responsible for - although Ruth had made it emphatically clear she was to help with the household chores - and she was only slightly curious about him. She had heard of Charles' well known genetics research but only small facts. But even so, her business wasn't to know his life story but more to do with his actual abode maintenance than anything else.

Ruth didn't say much other than she'd missed her granddaughter and staying with her was the answer. She didn't understand what her Nan meant but she agreed to stay to keep busy and get her mind off her life in general. Who knows? She might like living here after all.

She checked the time on her wrist watch, in the dark she could barely make out the numbers. It resembled something that came to a few minutes passed 11:30pm. She planned to be here sooner but her train hadn't left on schedule. Ruth would understand. She wasn't Aura's parents.

"Miss...?" She heard behind her and turned around.

The driver held up a purse he must have pulled from the back seat and Aura nearly blushed before she thanked the driver and took it. This wasn't the first time this happened. It was a good thing he was Charles Xavier's driver or else he would have just driven off. Aura was still clutching her belongings tightly out of habit.

When the driver gave a salute and drove the opposite direction Aura grabbed her bags and made her way toward the front door.

The entire place looked like some supernatural habituate. Green vines covering a stone castle-like feel. Ruth promised that this Charles person was going to be her business so that Aura wasn't going to deal with any stress. Cooking, cleaning and maintaining were good distractions, they kept her motivated. They kept her mind off certain things.

She remembered her mother's words before the door swung open to reveal a warm smile.

"Hello Nan. Sorry, I know, but I'm here." Aura smiled genuinely, missing her Nan's face.

Ruth pulled her granddaughter into her arms and held her close for a long moment. "Are you alright?"

Aura nodded and stepped inside as Ruth and her second hand maid began taking in her luggage. She rubbed her shoulders as Ruth gave her a knowing eye.

"I brewed a fresh pot. Adeline started a fire. Go on and relax darling." Ruth said as she gestured to cozy living room that depicted the fireplace alive with fresh flames.

Before Aura sat down to completely relax she stood up slightly, walking toward the kitchen area.

"Do you want some help?"

Ruth's smile lines rose as she begun to prepare everything, "No, Adeline will handle your chores. I know you've had a long day. You should go sit down and enjoy the warm fire."

Even though she felt it was her duty to help, relaxing felt like the best thing for her now. "Very well."

Aura pulled her jacket around her body tighter and slipped off her shoes, trying to get comfortable on the couch. This lifestyle was more than what she was prepared for, it seemed as if generations of families could live here and never have to worry about money, food and warmth. Living in luxury had to be wonderful. It reminded her of all the stories she used to read. Part of this seemed like something out of a fairy tale.

As she stood up to close the curtains, she noticed the bitter cold she was standing outside in turn into soft snow. The seasons came early, she love the snow, she appreciated how it looked when it fell gently from the sky and floated to the ground, collecting in a group. She watched for a few minutes until she felt like someone was looking at her. When she turned around, no one was there. She was sure it was someone but maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.

When she retreated back to her position on the couch, Ruth had come around the corner.

"I was hoping we would meet to talk in the day time but I'm wide awake." Ruth said, setting the tray of tea and food on the coffee table. "Here we are then."

"Thanks Nan." She carefully took the tea in her hand, letting it warm her naked skin. "This is quite strange of me to say but I never call you Ruth, have I?"

"No you always called me Nan - which is what you _should_ be calling me. Don't be like Charles." Ruth commented, picking up her tea and sipping it.

Her Nan wouldn't stop bringing him up since they begun taking about her coming. She wondered, besides being rich, what was so interesting about him that she had to keep his name in the air constantly? She thought about something.

"You mentioned he was brilliant. I could see why you talk about him a lot. Do I-" Ruth calmly interrupted her.

"No, like I said to you, Charles is my business. I am the one responsible for him. No need to be concerned. Charles won't be a problem. And if he is, he knows the consequences."

Aura smiled, almost finding Ruth's disciplinary ways comical. "Good to know. Have you had a long day?"

"Not quite as long as yours but the same like most days. How is your mum?"

Aura bit her lip, apprehension peaked at her throat, controlling the words wanting to come out. "She's doing better. I think she has improved since you last saw her. Personally, well, I wished it was different."

"Your father meant a lot to her. It wasn't her fault he left his responsibilities behind. Earning no respect from me, that's for certain."

"One thing is true; my father leaving was _not_ her fault. Maybe some part of me deserved it."

Ruth's face became startled. "Why are you saying this, child? Your mum loves you. Why do you believe for a minute that any of this is your fault?"

Aura wished she hadn't brought anything up. She needed to change the subject quickly before Ruth pressed on. Her Nan was good at getting someone to open up. It was a good and an unassuming trait Aura knew too well.

"Let's just say it's been really hard for everyone since he'd gone." She covered herself in a vague reply.

She hoped that was enough for Ruth to steer away from the topic.

Ruth's face soften as she placed her tea down and came close to her granddaughter, taking Aura's hand in hers, holding on like the gesture meant the world to her.

"I have never known what happened and I know - I believe you can never drive anyone away. You are too good, too kind a person to make anyone do such a thing." Ruth caressed her cheek before pulling her in a hug. "I know this, child."

As much as Aura liked to believe her Grandmother, some things are better left the way they should be. She wanted to be away from that life and welcome something more peaceful for a change.

When they pulled away Aura began to drink her tea in silence. She wasn't saying much to their talk other than a few occasional small responses. She knew Ruth wanted to talk and she gave her some time but knowing that she could open up areas that Aura wanted to keep closed was what she worried about the most. She kept the conversation light, for her own sake.

Aura ended the talk when she realized it was nearly 1am upon looking at the grandfather clock near the mantle. She was thankful to use her coming late prior as a great excuse to retire to her bedroom. Aura was slightly intimidated looking around the house. Since it was big it would take months to firmly examine every room, including the gardens in the conservatory covered in a glass sheathing that was attached to the home. Charles sure had a lot of rooms and space to do whatever he wants in. Ruth mentioned that he didn't go into all the rooms and mostly kept to himself either in his room or the study. She kept stressing that Charles was her checkpoint and left it as that to Aura. Not that Aura wasn't curious but it was almost as if Ruth was warning her of something in case of a future ominous situation might happen. She chose to believe otherwise.

Aura's understanding of the rich, privileged, high status, WASP like people were the same as society deemed. She didn't think much of them and mostly saw them as movie stars or otherworldly. She thought of Charles, on what she knew so far as someone posh, pious, standoffish and relating to royalty. If he wasn't knighted by the Queen then she would be surprised to know it.

But it was wrong of her generalize. She doesn't know anything about him; she is only judging him upon his image and his exterior way of living. It was wrong on so many levels and she felt bad for pitting him into what she only thought was the reality. Ruth hadn't said much about Charles as a person, more so that he was of a slight introvert in the way he would be in only two rooms of the many as of late.

Aura didn't see that as anything to be scared of. Since secondary school and tertiary education onto her sixth form as of recent, she was caught with her nose in her academics often. She didn't have must time nor genuine interest in a social life and viewed ones that gave attention to it as a monumental waste of time and energy. She wasn't opposed to having fun, she only perceived the idea of fun as something more unorthodox and freak like. Before her mother turned on her for her father leaving she used to call her daughter an old soul. Aura thought being a normal and conforming member of society was taxing; whatever normal means.

Aura brought her favorite books along on the train and leafed through where she stopped reading into one of them. It was a story about romance and the dramatics of witchcraft. Something she knew society was never comfortable with. She took Latin in school but it was predominantly a staunch study of the early pious pioneers and what they stood for. Studying religion was never entertaining but she loved learning about what happened in the 1600s during a time where nearly everybody was religious and you didn't dare speak a word against it. Witchcraft still fascinated Aura to no degree. She wanted to learn more about the practice and in turn find out why Wicca was so condemned by Christianity.

It made her parents frown when they found out she had read books that weren't allowed for educational purposes. She promised to her parents that she would stop and they believed her, more or less. Her mother made it a habit to check her book bag in case she was carrying anything suspicious. Since Aura hid them in other places of the house she had gotten away with it for a long time. It was easy to read them on the train heading toward a place where no one could bother her.

Until her mother found her...she would never tell Ruth but that was the most traumatizing moment of her life. She wanted to die; she wished she died that next day. It just wasn't fair. She used to have nightmares about that day. To go on in order to get her mind off of it she would be studying all hours of the day and avoided coming home. College hadn't gotten easier, she had to leave.

Just barely 21 and now she was beginning to try and figure her life out. She didn't have a clue what she wanted to do but she knew she had to be distracted, the good kind of deterred. Hard work and being around people who wouldn't judge everything you do.

Aura grabbed her diary toward the bottom of her carry on and opened it to the end of the booklet. She had written in there a lot since she knew she was leaving. Writing out her feelings helped for a moment, it was like listening to music, it wasn't going to point figures or reprimand you for anything. It was merely speaking to a blank wall with every thought she could muster out.

When she took the pen she normally used to write with, a feeling of rush and residual pain flowed through the uninhibited words.

 _Dear Days,_  
_Ruth was concerned again but no matter, personally if I kept busy from now on I won't have to talk about anything much. I know Nan will be alright with that. Unless I appear to be obvious and show my feelings on my sleeve. Don't care. From what I hear about the owner of this home, I figure she will have her hands full preoccupying herself. I came here to stay with Nan and be away from harshness. Sometimes I really feel as if my life has been stolen from me. The very thought that I can manage to live with myself surprises me every day. I realize where I am fortunate and haven't abandoned my good luck. I grew up without much of any. Father worked in politics, mother lived as paranoid political protester. I still don't understand what bought my parents together. I suppose it was love. My mother was certain that love was shattered because of me. I don't want to believe it but I feel like it is all the words I can remember of my mother since she has said no other to me. I thought I lived in those awful memories forever. But that is not what I wanted for my life. I still feel like in the back of my mind I am meant for something. Maybe it's a silly notion I've dreamed up from indulging in all those fantasy novels, somehow I don't think it is coincidence. As long as I am away from the stagnant negativity that used to control my life, I am better off. This home is a lovely one. Charles Xavier is a blessed man. He is surrounded by the one person I grew up admiring and considered a role model. Ruth takes care of everyone, for as long as I've known her she has the ability to see the good in people, no matter what wrongs they have done in their past. Now that I am away, I want to one day find somewhere I can belong. The Xavier mansion, very beautiful, is my distraction. As long as I keep working, become better disciplined, learn and grow, I do think all those times I thought it was the end will be long forgotten bad memory. It would be worth it. Truth is, I never know anymore and yet – it somehow feels right._  
 _Aura_

As she closed the booklet and bound the circle with the twine string until it finished, she pulled back from what she wrote. She was partly relieved and the rest of her felt incomplete. It was certainly more positive than what she would have normally written in past entries. Ruth could take credit for her change of mood. Although she was questioning her granddaughter, it was merely out of love and generosity. She never forced anyone to be honest with her; Ruth was the type of person who made things comforting, which had pained Aura to keep some things in. It wasn't as if she thought Ruth might label her, on the contrary, she wasn't like most people. The truth was Ruth would become more burdened with new detriments and Aura didn't wish to be the cause of her anxiety.

Aura shook when she heard a ruckus tumble outside her room. She stood up and went over to peek into the sliver of the door opening. She could only hear faint voices, a gruff tone, harsh and accusative and the other, sounded more like Ruth's. Aura wanted to open the door completely to look upon the scene but she didn't see the point. None of this concerned her and none of it will.

She shut the door, minding her business as she looked at her bed in the corner. This was where she could be private; this was the only place where she would keep to herself until she was needed. The clocks alerted her it was time and she agreed. She combed her hair before putting her books and materials off the bed. She could read herself to slumber but she somehow felt it best to shut her eyes and naturally slip away.

Come tomorrow nobody was going to stop her from finally seeing more to life than judgments.

Aura shut the lights and slipped inside the covers, letting her mind and body drift away to a place resembling something she desired for the longest time: hope.


	3. Chapter 3

Charles fumbled with his washing and clothes. Simple tasks to anyone else, but he found them more difficult as the days go on. Soon it was going to get harder to breathe.  
  
But he had to behave himself. Ruth kept scolding his antics repeatedly without batting an eye. She knew he was going to relapse as he had been for the past three months. It's gotten worse since Hank visited less frequently. Charles put all the blame on everyone but himself. It was safer to think that way.   
  
He felt his hair, touching the barely washed still damp brittle tresses while contemplating smashing the mirror he looked into. He was sure he needed to smash something with Ruth constantly reprimanding him for the slightest things. He wasn't allowed to argue, but he had and when he did, she threatened to leave him for good. He knew she was lying and would never leave him, but the look in her eyes had given a chill running down his spine. She _could_ leave, and that was what scared him.  
  
Even if everyone did run away from him, Ruth stayed. That was brave on her part. Charles took most of what she did for him for granted and he was well aware of how putrid he was acting. This erratic self aware attitude hadn't done much for his disposition. Ruth took pity him but didn't forget all the damage he had done to the people around him who really cared at some point. Ruth still provided and cared for him like he was family, but if he had accidentally looked her in the eye wrong; the consequences were brought on himself.   
  
Realizing for once they weren't in his head, he'd heard voices downstairs and took his time with his clothes. Breakfast was made ready; he could smell the familiar scents of bacon, eggs, crisp toast, sausage links and a fresh pot of Earl Grey steaming on the stove. A proper English breakfast waiting for him to feast on and yet his blasé demeanor wouldn’t have it. Ruth and Adeline slaved surely. He had yet to place Aura into a category. Did he really want to? Most of him wanted to for simple fact that she is living here without his accordance. What exactly was she doing in his house without his knowing anything about her work duties? She could be touching pictures, personal items without his permission. His other maids were no bother. But he was personally and internally bothered at the notion of this girl touching his property, let alone, living in his home.  
  
Ruth told him to stay away but his mind, as fragile as it was in its state, had gotten the better of him. He wanted to listen in on the discussion. His powers were shifting back and forth the longer he waited to inject his vein with the serum. His mind wasn't strong enough to listen in so he walked closer toward the staircase to get a clearer sound.  
  
Muffled voices were all he managed to get out. Walking about, dishes touching, pots clinking, the sink was shut off then turned on again. It seemed like the after chores were taking place. Charles didn't want to be near anyone right now, even the new stranger related to Ruth.   
  
Why should he care if she is living here anyway? He didn't know her and sure as hell wanted nothing to do with her. The girl was a ghost to him. She was Ruth's business. This girl wasn't Hank. Hank was a friend. Someone he could count on. Now he's gone. Charles didn't want anyone else in his life.   
  
Ruth was enough of a tyrant; the worst kind of den mother. But he would lose it all without her. Of course he would never admit that, so he kept it in his thoughts, along with the rest of last night's scotch he left on the desk. Warm. Room temperature. It lost its fizz while it coated down his throat, stinging the rest of the way down his body. He wanted to be paralyzed. He reached into his stash and jumped in place.  
  
"Charles, no stalling this morning. Come downstairs this instant!" He knew that voice well.  
  
She didn't have to sound so piercing as she said it. Knowing Ruth, there wasn't any other way when dealing with Charles.  
  
He had no need to answer back but he did anyway, mainly just to piss her off. "Alright _then_."   
"Charles, _now_."  
  
He wasn't exactly on her good graces and he knew it wasn't going to change until he does. Charles didn't expect to change. Now that those voices were erased from his mind all he wanted to do was continue living like a person who wasn't afraid of anything.   
  
But the truth was the opposite. The more he did this, the more life appeared as a werewolf to him. Daring him to open his eyes and move onward.   
  
He knew he was just surviving, he wasn't living; and this was the lie he told himself each time he hid his mutation.  
  
Charles was aware that being a mutant was barely surviving, and yet, it still had purpose.   
  
Whatever this was, Ruth banging down on his door; supper prepared for him only to pretend to eat it while he took coffee and stimulants to his room, locking the door behind. This was what it had to be. His father was a drinker, mother an apparition as she never earned the title of his blood relative, Charles was the product of substance and abandonment, which is exactly how he treated others since the academy fell apart. He wanted to give mutants something he never had: a chance to matter, acceptance.  
  
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Deep down, Charles knew his former life felt less constrained, no matter what battles he had to deal with in being who he is. He never thought of himself as freak of nature, some days, during the first moments of mutation, that theory was questioned as he filled his favorite scotch glass, hearing the ice cube crackle as he topped it off without a care.  
  
He closed his eyes as he lifted the glass to his lips.   
  
"Charles!" Ruth exclaimed, banging on his door like it was a tymphony.  
  
He coughed a few times, regaining his throat back to normal. He covered his face and looked sideways at his caretaker.   
  
"Done now." He put the glass down while still coughing as he looked to Ruth standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.  
  
"Proper good. Downstairs." She said as her eyes remained level.  
  
He wiped his mouth on the handkerchief he kept on his desk.   
  
"Fan-bloody-tastic." He mumbled but loud enough for her to hear.  
  
Ruth paid no mind to his childish behavior. She wasn't in the mood for it.   
  
"Do you think I'm here because I love treatment received? You've got that wrong." She said evenly.  
  
She made a sudden movement to help him out but he pushed her away, not hard but enough to let her know he could manage it himself.   
  
"No need."  
  
"I should hope so. Go ahead of me. I want to see you walk down the stairs and sit down to eat."  
  
Charles bit his tongue back before he relinquished his usual refuting. He didn't have the energy to fight her. The Scotch had managed to wake him up a little. It was enough to at least walk downstairs.   
  
After some body dragging on his end he managed one by one to go to the dining room where there was a table set just for him at the head. It looked like it always had looked. Buffet in presence, rich in style, sterling silver plates used to place hot food on top. He felt a small amount of blessing before walking to sit with a small huff on his chair. He made his staff throw out the chairs his parents used to own as he didn't want anything of theirs near him. Sitting in the same place his father had sat in made his blood boil, thinking about the idea of keeping those memories made him grip the table cloth.  
  
Ruth had come with the antique kettle full with hot liquid. She poured it over the loose leaf strainer and placed the tea cup on the middle of the empty plate.  
  
"I needn't remind you to drink before eating. But now you must because I say so."  
  
Charles groaned inwardly and picked up the cup, blowing on the hotness before sipping the black tea. The smell was putting a peaceful reverence into the room.   
  
He wondered where Aura had walked to. He thought he would find her near the kitchen or at least next to her Nan. He was beginning to think Ruth sent her away on purpose so they wouldn't meet.   
  
"Where is Aura?" He said, letting his thoughts get the better of him.  
  
"She is not here."  
  
"Why is that?"  
  
Ruth began drying the dishes on the rack and placed them in their corrective spots. "Charles, mind your business."   
  
"It is my business if someone whom I do not know is in my home." Ruth continued on her duties, turning her back to Charles on purpose. "I wish to know."  
  
"That doesn't earn you the right to, Charles. Eat up and silence."  
  
Charles banged the table ferociously. "Ruth, bloody hell. This is still _my_ home. Why are you keeping her from me?"  
  
Ruth calmly backed away from the sink, wiping her hand on the towel. She sighed deeply reaching for a bottle of whiskey, pouring it into a small shot glass. She slowly lifted it to her lips before she took it down before she could stop herself.  
  
Flashes of her conversation with her granddaughter came back to her. Her face fell when she remembered what they talked about earlier.  
  
_"Nan?" Aura rubbed the tired from her eyes as she stepped inside the study, she looked around the library collection until she saw her Grandma coming from the kitchen switching on the lap to illuminate the room properly. "Hello?"  
  
Ruth hesitated before turning her attention to Aura. "Good morning, love. How was your rest?"  
  
"Was very well. How was yours? I didn't realize just how early it was." Aura looked down, sheepishly.  
  
Ruth smiled warmly. "I haven't been up for long."   
  
Aura knew she was lying slightly. Ruth looked too awake to have "just woken up."  
  
"Is there anything I should do? I am already awake." Aura said, somehow just wanting to be as distracted as possible.  
  
"There isn't anything massive to do right at this moment." Ruth excused herself before walking to the kitchen, inspecting inside the refrigerator specifically.  
  
"Nan?"  
  
"Yes, dear?"  
  
Aura took a seat on the couch closest to her grandma as she looked down, twiddling her fingers, trying to find the right words.   
  
"I would really like something to do." She looked up, her eyes partly glassing over. "I need to."  
  
Ruth knelled down to Aura's level, trying to look in her eyes but she wasn't letting her. "Is something wrong, my love?"  
  
Aura pushed back her emotions before she grew out of control. She forced herself to hold everything in and pretend everything was alright.  
  
"I am fine. I just want to help. Is there anything I can do to help you?" She asked Ruth in a small but sturdy as she managed voice.  
  
Ruth held onto her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze, "I won't judge you. I promise that for you."  
  
Aura swallowed, the lump in her throat raising the more Ruth pressed her to open her feelings up.   
  
"I know..." Aura stared into her Nan's eyes, smiling weakly. "I know you wouldn't."  
  
Ruth's eyes stared inside hers, trying to find her secrets. She wasn't a mind reader so she knew she wasn't going to get answers.  
  
"If you could read my mind, please know that anything you say to me will not change how much I love you my dear. I brought you home right here to give you peace." Ruth said softly, each word more delicate than the next.  
  
Aura sighed heavily, "Pardon me," she stood from where she was sitting and walked away from the room.  
  
Ruth almost followed her but Aura held her hand, "I need to talk a walk. Please understand."_  
  
_Aura felt Ruth coming closer and she backed away, avoiding confrontation. Her head needed to be cleared and she had to have some quiet if she was going to make it._  
  
Ruth pulled from the flashback this morning and slammed her hands on the kitchen counters. Ruth was brisk but she never became aggressive no matter how rough things were. Charles moved away, stumbling, his eyes anxious for what she was going to do or say.  
  
She fled the room in a huff, trying to find out where Aura had gone to. It was hopeless. Aura may have run away and there was no way she could possibly help her now. She should have not pressed her granddaughter. All she cared about was that Aura is home and safe. Now it is half passed 11 am and she has not returned yet.  
  
"It's my fault. All of this is my fault." Ruth spoke quietly before sinking to her knees in agony.  
  
She heard footsteps ahead of her and flinched as she stood up. Her eyes were frantic searching for the location of the sound.   
  
Aura, she's moving slowly, taking her time to make her way toward the house. Ruth sensed Charles was behind her but she didn't turn around, all she cared about was her granddaughter.   
  
She ran to Aura and scooped her into her arms, feeling the sense of worry slip away as she embraced her tightly.  
  
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" Ruth fired off questions and all Aura could do was remain confused.  
  
Aura pulled away, eying her Nan directly in the eye. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I only thought something had happened to you, this morning, I was frightfully scared. You'd gone for a long time."  
  
Aura smiled and kissed her Nan on her cheek, walking with her back to the mansion. "I am sorry. I should not have been away for too long. I am deeply apologetic."  
  
Ruth stopped and pulled Aura into her arms again; cradling her like she was a newborn. "I don't work without you. I need you with me."  
  
Aura nodded, Ruth gave a kiss on her cheek before they made their way back inside. Aura huddled her shoulders and looked upstairs to Charles' room. His door was slightly ajar with him standing there in the opening slit. She felt the weight of his stare as he opened the door wider, getting a better look.  
  
His expression was blank but underneath she could sense an uneasy undertone. She felt an uncanny mood seeping from his demeanor.  
  
Aura opened her mouth to speak, unable to take this intense glaring. But before she could he'd already shut the door roughly.   
  
She was interrupted by Ruth walking back into the living room, tray firmly in hand, tea searing hot, ready to warm them up.  
  
Aura glanced back at Charles' room with a sad smile. She almost curved it into a genuine one when Ruth began to discuss her itinerary for the day.  
  
God knows she needed the day to be full of work. Maybe if she's lucky most of the chores would be away from Charles.   
  
Upstairs Charles leaned against the door, sliding down.   
__  
At least she is afraid of me. Good. He thought, wanting to keep it that way.


End file.
